I'm fine (Derek Morgan)
by 23Anonymous45
Summary: When Derek Morgan comes down with a particularly nasty illness during one of their cases, it's up to Penelope Garcia to make sure he gets the rest he needs (I'm really bad at titles and descriptions, but I promise the story will be better than either of them)
1. Chapter 1

"Morgan, are you paying attention?" Hotch said, causing Morgan's head to snap up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm listening. Sorry." He mumbled, looking at Hotch and squinting slightly.

He'd been tossing and turning all night. There was absolutely no reason for his restlessness, he simply couldn't will his body to shut down and sleep.

Now he was paying for it.

"Okay, so what can we gather from this?" Hotch asked.

Morgan tuned him out, trying to focus on not falling asleep.

JJ and Emily kept looking at him out of the corner of their eyes, it was unlike Morgan to be so out of it. Reid was making no effort to hide the fact that he had been staring at Morgan the entire time they'd been in debriefing, trying to figure out what was going on with him.

"We know that the unsub is smart, he's careful. He probably has a high end job, and judging by the time of the murders, he probably works nine to five." Reid said, still staring at Morgan.

Morgan was too tired to tell him to stop being a creep.

"Wheels up in an hour, go get your stuff." He said, looking at his team. "Morgan. A word?"

Morgan groaned, and stood up, rubbing the back of his head and neck. "Sorry, Hotch."

"It's not like you to zone out during the debriefing, what's going on?"

"I'm just a little tired, sorry, sir."

"Get some coffee. We need you awake and alert."

"You look exhausted." JJ observed when Morgan walked out of the room.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you don't sleep."

"Why couldn't you sleep?" Emily frowned.

"I don't know." He sighed.

"There are a lot of reasons why someone wouldn't be able to sleep at night." Reid interjected. "Are you under stress?"

Morgan shot him a flat look. "Kid. Is that even a question? Our job _is_ stress."

"No, I mean, have you been under more stress than usual lately?"

"No."

"Are you depressed?"

"No."

"Emotionally flat? Hopeless?"

"No, Reid."

"Health problems? Have you been feeling okay?"

"I'm fine." He said flatly. Derek got up and walked into the break room for coffee, as he ran a hand over his face exhaustedly.

Garcia walked into the room, and Derek grinned at her. "Good morning, princess."

She winked at him. "I'll show you a good morning, hot stuff."

He chuckled, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and then took a sip. "Mmm. Coffee?" He asked, gesturing to the coffee pot.

"No thanks, sugar."

"You want sugar?" He asked, staring at her in confusion.

"...No...are you alright? You seem a bit out of it."

"Just a little tired. Hence the coffee." He said, holding it up briefly before taking another sip. "Are you coming with us, baby girl?"

"Yeah, should be an interesting case."

"Why?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "You were in the debriefing, angelfish, do you not remember anything?"

"...No."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He winked at her. "I'm just fine, gorgeous."

"Poke him." Reid suggested.

"I'm not going to poke him. Do you really want to disturb a sleeping Morgan?" Garcia said, staring intently at her best friend.

"Well we've got to get to the hotel, so one of you has to wake him up." Hotch said, irritation lacing his voice.

He was starting to get pissed off at Morgan. He'd been late to the debriefing, and had been half asleep and not paying attention the whole time. Hotch was hoping to catch him up on the way to Alaska, but he'd slept the whole ride there. It was a seven hour flight too, he figured he'd have some time.

"Sugar shack, time to wake up." Garcia murmured into Derek's ear. He inhaled sharply, looking around groggily as he rubbed his eyes.

"Hmmm?" He croaked, his voice heavy from sleep.

"We're here, time to go to the hotel."

They got into the cars that were waiting for them: Hotch, Prentiss and Rossi in one, and Reid, JJ, Morgan and Garcia in the other.

Derek spent the entire car ride clenching and unclenching his jaw in time with the throbbing in his head. He was hoping he'd have his own room, because all he wanted to do was sleep his headache away.

Why was his head aching so badly?

He was hoping he wasn't getting sick. Most people got sick multiple times a year, but his immune system seemed to bottle it up and wait for that one little thing to push it over the edge and put him through his own personal hell.

Last year he'd come down with what he thought was just a chest cold, but turned out to be bronchitis, and then morphed into walking pneumonia, and he was sick (and in and out of hospitals) for a solid three to four months.

The year before that, he caught the stomach flu, and was on the couch for almost two weeks straight vomiting. That had been _way worse_ than pneumonia.

The year before that it was the flu, despite having gotten his flu shot. He was delusional with a fever of nearly one hundred and three for almost three weeks.

Once they arrived at the hotel, they all filed out, and met up in the lobby.

"I have your room assignments. Morgan and Garcia are in room two eleven, Reid and Rossi are in room two fifteen, JJ and Prentiss, room two twenty, and I'll be in room two eighteen." Hotch said, handing Rossi, Prentiss, and Morgan key cards.

"It's late, so everyone get some sleep and report to me eight AM tomorrow morning." Hotch instructed them.

"Sweet!" Garcia chirped, looking at Morgan. "Try to keep your hands off me, hot stuff."

He winked at her. "No promises, sexy lady."

They all walked to the elevators; Morgan was about to walk past him when Hotch put a hand on the front of his shoulder. "I expect you to be alert tomorrow. I don't know what's going on with you, but work it out and pull yourself together."

"It won't happen again, I promise."

"Good. Now go get some sleep, you look like you need it."

Morgan dragged himself to where Garcia was waiting, and they stepped onto the elevator. He rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Hey." Garcia said softly, putting a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired." He mumbled, peering at her out of the corner of his eye.

"You slept the entire flight over. Did you not sleep last night, angel?"

"No." He groaned.

"You're looking kind of pale...you'd better not be getting sick on me, agent sexy-pants."

"Agent sexy-pants, huh? That's a new one."

"I can't keep using the same nicknames. Gotta keep you on your toes." She grinned.

He rolled over in bed, squeezing his eyes shut. It was two in the morning, Garcia was fast asleep in the bed next to his. Morgan had woken up around midnight, his head pounding. Judging by the chill that had settled in his bones, he could tell he had a fever, and he felt incredibly run down and achey.

He pressed his face into the pillow.

A few hours passed before their alarms went off.

"Turn it off." He mumbled, hiding his head under the pillow.

"You sound exhausted, . Did you sleep at all?"

"I've been up since midnight."

"Why?"

"Couldn't sleep." He sighed, pulling the pillow off his face to look at her.

"Whoa there, gorgeous. You don't look so hot. I mean, you always look hot, but you don't look like you feel very well. Are you okay?" She said, her words tumbling out as she stumbled over them in an attempt to figure out what was wrong with him.

"I'm fine." He mumbled.

She sat on the edge of his bed, and looked down at him, sighing lightly.

"You're not fine, my vision. Is this why you were so off yesterday, you didn't feel well?"

"I felt fine yesterday, I was just tired." He said, blinking tiredly.

She put a cool hand on his forehead, then his cheek, then put her hands under his jawline, feeling for swollen glands.

"I'll call boss-man."

"I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Tell that to the fever."

"Baby girl, I'm fine. I can work."

"Mnh-mnh. You, sir, are staying in bed. I'm calling Hotch."

"Garcia." He groaned. "Hotch is already mad at me for yesterday."

"I know he is, angelfish, but he's not going to be mad at you for being sick."

Morgan sat up, looking at her bleary-eyed. "Penelope, I'm fine. You're overreacting. I don't even feel that badly, now go get ready. It's seven thirty, we have to be down in half an hour."

"You're seriously telling me you're fine. Derek, be realistic, you do know what a fever means, right?"

"I'm fine." He snapped. "Now will you just drop it and let me do my job?"

"You stupid, stupid man." She grumbled under her breath. "You need to rest, that sexy body of yours is begging you to."

"You want to take a shower first, or can I?"

She sighed in defeat. "I will, it'll only take me a few minutes."

"Please don't tell anybody I have a fever. I'll be fine, but I don't need everyone to know."

She pursed her lips. "Yeah, okay."


	2. Chapter 2

He was unsteady on his feet, the fever haze long past having settled over him. He'd been able to take a shower, get dressed, and then make it to the halfway point between the door and the bed before he had to hold onto the wall. If he didn't, he'd probably be flat on his face right about now.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Garcia asked, putting an arm around his waist and helping him back to the bed.

He nodded, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. It was seven forty-five, which meant they had fifteen minutes until they had to be down in the lobby.

"Do you want some tylenol, gorgeous?" She asked softly, putting a hand on his burning cheek.

"You have some?" He asked,

"I always do, you never know what's going to happen."

"Oh...yeah, sure." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

She sighed. "If you're not feeling well, you should be in bed resting."

"I'm fine. It's just a headache."

She sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Fine."

Penelope walked over to her bag and went through it, finding the bottle of pain relievers. She took out two and handed them to him.

"You shouldn't take them on an empty stomach, it's just going to make you nauseas."

"I'll be fine."

"Let me get you a banana or something."

"I'm not hungry. Trust me, I'll be fine, baby girl." He said, shooting her a crooked grin, and then swallowed them dry. He winced as they scraped against his raw throat.

She laughed lightly. "You know those are meant to be taken with water, right? Lie back down and sleep, we still have about fifteen minutes before we have to be down there."

"You'd better actually wake me up." He said, narrowing his eyes at her. "Because knowing you, you won't."

Penelope sighed. "I promise...as much as I don't like it."

She watched as he climbed into bed and rolled on his side.

Stupid, stubborn behavioral analyst.

At seven fifty-five, she sat on the edge of his bed and ran a finger up and down his overheated cheek.

"Time to wake up, my burning love hunk."

He groaned. "What time is it?"

"Seven fifty-five. Up and at 'em, sugar."

He pushed himself into a sitting position, blinking slowly.

He had the expression of a confused puppy as he looked around the room, and the reality of how awful he really felt began to set in.

What he wouldn't give to go back to sleep.

"Just say the word, I can call Hotch and you won't have to go anywhere." Penelope said, practically reading his mind.

He shook his head, immediately regretting that decision as his vision blurred and the room spun.

"No, no, I'm fine, baby girl. Seriously, you don't need to worry about me."

They walked down to the lobby, realizing that they were the last two members of the team to arrive. As soon as they joined them, their conversations came to a halt once they saw Morgan's appearance.

His face was completely pale, his eyes glassy with dark bags underneath them, signaling multiple nights of little to no sleep. He was swaying lightly on his feet, as if he were standing on a docked boat.

He looked like crap.

"What did we miss?" He asked, clearing his throat.

"Are you feeling alright?" Prentiss asked, putting her hand on his forehead. "Morgan, you have a fever."

"I'm fine." He said, batting her hand away and side stepping. "It's nothing."

"On the contrary." Reid said. "A fever is a sign of infection, which means that your body is trying to fight something off, so even if you feel fine, you're still sick and need to rest."

"Morgan, why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Hotch asked, frowning.

It explained why he was so tired all day yesterday, and it made him feel guilty for being so frustrated with him. Hotch should have known something was off, he was definitely not acting normal.

"I'm not sick."

"Right." JJ scoffed.

"Morgan." Hotch said, shaking his head. "Go to bed."

"Come on man-"

"No, you're not going out on a case when you're any less than one hundred percent. You'd be too much of a liability. If you really want to work, you can work with Garcia from here, but I want you resting."

"I'm telling you, I'm fine. I can work."

"Not a chance." Hotch said, shaking his head.

"Come on, gorgeous. Let's get you back to bed."

"I'm not sick." He grumbled.

"But you're tired. You've been up since midnight, come on." Garcia said, rubbing his back soothingly.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine."

Hotch turned to the rest of his team. "Go wait in the cars, I'll be there in a minute."

Once everybody left, Hotch turned to him, pressing his lips into a straight line. "Look. I need you to be truthful with your health. If you don't feel well, you _need_ to tell someone, don't push yourself."

"But the case-"

"We can handle one or two cases without you, but if you push yourself, you're going to be out for longer, which isn't something we _can_ handle."

Morgan sighed. "Okay, okay."

"Now go get some rest. Garcia-"

"I've got it handled, sir."

"Good. Keep me updated."

Garcia finally got Morgan upstairs to their room (It was a workout, the poor guy was so dead on his feet, she was practically carrying him), and once he was lying on the bed, she backed up with her hands on her hips.

"Alright. Either you're just fat, or I really need to work out." She said, out of breath.

He grinned, his eyes sliding shut. "Must be out of shape, baby girl."

"Yeah, obviously. Have you seen me?"

"I think you're gorgeous, momma." He said, winking lazily at her.

She grinned. "Alright, come on. Let's get you in something more comfortable."

"I can do it." He mumbled, pushing himself to a sitting position. It took about fifteen minutes, but he changed out of his work clothes, set his holster on one of the tables, and changed into a pair of gym shorts. He opted to go shirtless, as he had sweated through his long-sleeved shirt, and was uncomfortably hot.

He emerged from the bathroom, and Garcia had to tear her eyes away from his sculpted muscled.

"My oh my. You're not gonna make this easy, are you?"

"Just keep your hands off me, I'm too tired to fend you off."

"Oh, darling. You know you want me, don't even try denying it."

He grinned tiredly, and then trudged to the bed and collapsed onto it. "Not tonight, dear. I have a headache."

She smiled softly at him. "How are you feeling, my love?"

"I'm fine...just tired." He lied.

"Get some sleep...we'll see how you feel when you wake up."

"I don't know why you guys are all insisting I'm sick...m'just tired."

Garcia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay."

Morgan woke up two hours later, his stomach churning.

"Garcia." He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

"What's up, sugar?"

"Stomach...sick." Morgan whined, burying his face in the pillow.

She handed him a trashcan, already having anticipated that he'd need one. "You need to eat. I told you taking the meds on an empty stomach was a bad idea."

He sat up and leaned over it, breathing heavily as a cold sweat broke out over his body. He gagged once, only stomach acid coming up. Garcia sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand up and down his back. Once he was done, he slumped back into the pillows, rubbing his temples.

"When was the last time you ate?" She asked softly.

"Two days ago."

She groaned. "Why haven't you eaten in two days, gorgeous? You need sustenance to sustain that sexy body of yours."

"Wasn't hungry."

"How's your stomach now? Are you still nauseas?"

"Mmm." He nodded, his eyelids sliding shut as he inhaled deeply through his nose. "Alright, I'll get you something to eat, it'll help." She said, looking around. Penelope's eyes landed on a fruit bowl. "Banana?"

"Sounds fine." He said, his voice at least an octave lower, and much raspier than usual.

She giggled lightly. "I know you don't feel well, and your throat is probably killing you, which just...sucks, but that rasp is downright sexy."

He chuckled lightly. "Thanks, baby girl."

She handed him a banana, and he sat up with a wince.

After he'd eaten, the nausea and stomach pain subsided, and he yawned sleepily, his eyelids sliding shut.

"Sleep well, my sweet." She said, kissing his forehead.

Garcia knew needed to get some medicine other than Tylenol into him. He needed proper cold and flu meds. The ringing of her phone sent her hurrying into the bathroom in an attempt to keep from waking him.

"Hey, boss man. What's up?"

"How's Morgan?" Hotch asked.

"Not feeling well...he isn't outright telling me he's sick, but he's making no effort to tell me he's fine, which is what he was doing this morning. He woke up a few minutes ago sick to his stomach, but I gave him something to eat and he went back to sleep."

"How bad do you think it is?"

"I have no idea, but I know he needs something more than just tylenol. I think I'm going to run to the store real quick and get him something. Is there anything you need me to do?"

"No, we're fine for now. One of us will call you if we need your help though."

Derek woke up six hours later, his head all stuffed up. He could feel all of the throbbing pressure behind his eyes, making it difficult to keep them awake.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." Penelope said, smiling softly at him. "How do you feel?"

"Nnnnnngh." He said, letting out a low groan of pain. His entire body hurt, and he could feel himself shivering, but he was far too out of it to register what was going on.

"That great, huh? Well, I went to the store while you were sleeping and got some things to help you feel better."

He just stared at her blankly, and it was at that moment that she realized just how sick he actually was. She knelt in front of him, thermometer in hand as she stared at him worriedly.

"I need you to open your mouth for me, doll."

After a few moments, he finally gathered enough energy to comply to her request, and she stuck it under his tongue. He closed his mouth, clenching his jaw. His eyes slid shut on their own accord, and he sniffled miserably.

"One hundred and two point eight...well...um...that's higher than I was expecting." She said, shaking it.

"I feel like hell." He managed to croak out, his voice much more raspy and congested than it was last time he was awake.

"I know you do, sugar shack." She sighed, cupping his cheek. "Let's get some medicine in you, and then you can go back to sleep."

He nodded, sniffling as his breath hitched. " _Ehhh...heh...EHh'Xxchuh! Eh-EHh'Xxchuh! *Snff*_ "

"Bless you."

He sniffled again, rubbing his eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. "Thank you."

She handed him two NyQuil tablets and a bottle of water. "Here."

After he'd taken it, he rolled on his side and drifted to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan laid in bed shivering as the room spun around him. He felt markedly worse than he did this afternoon. Garcia had gone out to find him something to eat, despite his claims that he wasn't hungry and she didn't need to go anywhere. He attempted to sniffle, but his sinuses were so congested that it felt like someone had filled his nose with cement.

His throat was killing him, and he absolutely hated the fact that he was stuck in bed while his team was out there catching the unsub without him.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the pounding in his head. Morgan pulled the covers off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His hands clenched the covers as his muscles ached and protested. He just needed to load up on cold and flu meds, and he'd be fine. He'd been out for nine hours. That was long enough.

He took the medicine, and somehow made it out of the hotel without collapsing. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized that Alaska was experiencing a torrential downpour, and within moments, he was soaked to the bone.

Still though, he continued on.

Penelope walked into their room.

"Morgan?" She called out, a frown on her face when she realized that he wasn't in bed where she had left him. She opened the bathroom door, panic gripping at her when she realized that he wasn't there either. "Derek?"

When she didn't find him, she dialed Hotch's number with shaking hands.

"Wha-"

"Derek is missing."

"What do you mean he's missing?"

"I left to go get him something to eat because he hasn't had anything more than fruit in two days and I just got back, and he's _gone_."

"We'll be there soon. Go check downstairs and around the hotel."

Morgan only made it a couple feet before the shivering kicked in; he only made it a few yards before dark spots started clouding his vision, and he was even more lightheaded than before. Not even a minute later, his vision darkened, and he felt himself falling as the ground beneath him disappeared.

Garcia went to the front desk, and slammed her hands down.

"Hello, my name is Penelope Garcia, I'm staying in room two eleven with my friend. He's really sick, and while I was out getting him something to eat, he must have left our room or something, because he's gone and I can't find him. Have you seen him? He's black, about six feet tall, bald, really in shape, has muscles." She said.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I haven't."

She cursed under her breath. "Okay, thank you."

Penelope was getting worried now. Morgan had a raging fever, and it was _pouring_ ; he was so, _so_ sick, and she was afraid he was passed out somewhere.

She needed to find him before he caught pneumonia.

"Where are you, you stupid, _stupid_ man?" She mumbled to herself, walking out of the hotel.

"Garcia." Hotch said, hopping out of the black SUV and hurrying over to her.

She let out a shaky sigh. "I don't know where he could have gone! He had a one hundred and two degree fever, he was pretty out of it when I left."

JJ put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll find him, don't freak out."

"I just...he's so sick, and he has a fever, and it's pouring, this is just going to make him even worse."

"We'll find him." Emily promised.

They split up: Rossi and Prentiss searching the top floors of the hotel, Reid and Hotch searching the bottom floors, and JJ and Garcia searching outside.

"Where could he be?" Garcia panicked.

"We'll find him, Penelope. Come on."

An incessant beeping noise woke Derek up. He peered around the room, blinking slowly as his fever-riddled brain attempted to make sense of where he was.

After a few moments, it clicked. The hospital.

"Oh thank God you're awake." Penelope sighed, relief clear in her voice. Everyone else was in the waiting room, waiting for Garcia to come and "You stupid, stupid man."

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "My head." He croaked, sniffling miserably.

"Do you remember what happened?" She asked.

"No...everything is...hazy." He mumbled, too tired to keep up a coherent conversation.

"I'll get your doctor, she'll explain everything."

Morgan winced. No matter how out of it he was, or how crappy he felt, he knew that tone of voice.

She was pissed.

Penelope walked out of the room, and informed the doctor that he was awake before walking into the waiting room.

"He's awake."

"How is he?" Emily asked.

"Out of it. The doctor is in with him now."

"Are you alright?" JJ asked.

She pursed her lips. "Yes."

Garcia waited, and walked into Morgan's room ten minutes after informing the team that he was awake.

"Baby girl, please don't be mad at me." He said, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

"Oh, sugar. I'm _way_ past mad." She said, cocking a brow. "But I'll let you have it when you're feeling better."

Hotch cleared his throat. "How long until you can get out of here?"

"Doc said as soon as I s... _heh...Ehhh...EHh'Xxchuh! *Snff*_ 'scuse me." He mumbled. "As soon as I sign the disch _ahhh_... _heh...EHh'Xxtchuh! EHh'Xxtchuh! *Snff*_ Ugh...s-sorry. I can leave once I sign discharge papers." He said, coughing into his fist.

"What did the doctor say?" JJ asked softly, sitting in one of the chairs.

"She said I have the flu and a sinus infection." He sighed. "And that I have to stay in bed until it passes."

"Good. How long does she think it'll take to recover?"

"I don't remember."

"Are you on antibiotics?" Reid asked,

"No...she said something about it being a vi-"

"-Virus. Yeah, antibiotics only treat bacterial infections, not viral. Sinusitis symptoms last seven to ten days or more, and the flu typically takes one to two weeks before you'll start feeling better."

"No more trying to escape from your bed." Hotch said sternly. "You need to _rest_ until you're better."

"Yes, sir." He sighed.

"How do you feel?" She asked later that evening. Her expression was blank, but her lips were pressed into a straight line, and her jaw was clenched.

"Ugh." He groaned. He looked at her sadly, and then sighed. "Come on, baby girl. Let me have it."

"You're sick. You still have a fever, I'm not going to 'let you have it' until you're better."

"Penelope, come on." He said, pushing himself into a sitting position, and slumping back into the pillows. "I can take it."

"You idiot!" She exploded, looking at him angrily. "What part of 'you've had a one hundred and two degree fever for nine straight hours' do you not understand? HOW HARD IS IT TO STAY IN BED?!"

"Garc-"

"-Oh no." She spat. "You wanted me to 'let you have it' and that's what I'm doing. So sit back and enjoy the ride, dude."

He pursed his lips in an attempt to hide a smile. "Go ahead."

"You are an absolute idiot. You didn't need to be stumbling around in the rain, you were out of it to begin with. Do you realize how scared I was when I couldn't find you? And then when we found you passed out on the ground. You can't do that to yourself! You spiked a one hundred and four degree fever. _One hundred and four!_ "

"I'm sorry." He sighed. "I really am, it was a horrible decision on my part."

"Why'd you do it?"

He sniffled. "I don't know..." His head was killing him at that point, this being the longest conversation he'd had in what felt like days.

"We can talk more when you wake up. Get some sleep you cute little fugitive."

He grinned lazily, his eyelids drooping shut as he fell asleep.

When he woke up next, Derek felt as if he'd been hit by a bus.

"Good afternoon sleepy." Garcia said softly. He looked around in confusion. Everything was wrong: he an. His clothes were strewn about the room, and there was a broken lamp on the floor. He was lying on the bed the wrong way, (his head was at the bottom left corner). He was only wearing his boxers, and he was absolutely freezing. Morgan grabbed the blankets that were bunched in a ball next to him and pulled them over his body.

"How?" He croaked, his voice sounding much worse than yesterday, He went into a chesty sounding coughing fit, and Garcia winced.

"What do you remember from last night, angelfish?"

He sniffled, burying his face in the blankets. "No... _Eh...Ehhh...EHh'Xxchuh! EHh'Xxtchuh! EHh'Xxtchuh! *Snff*_ What did I do?"

She smirked. "Settle in for story time, it's a good one."

He groaned, rubbing his forehead, and coughing miserably. "Just tell me."

"You woke up around eleven coughing and sneezing, do you remember that?"

"No."

"Okay, well you did, and then you downed about half a bottle of cold medicine. After it kicked in, you decided to do a strip tease."

"I didn't." He groaned, coughing lightly.

She laughed. "You did, and, yes, you are sexy."

"What?"

"You kept asking me if you were sexy. 'Baby girl, am I sexy? Tell me I'm sexy. Am I sexy?' I'm pretty sure you asked about ten times."

"No." He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Even though they were best friends, it was still mortifying.

"Don't be embarrassed, it was highly amusing, there was music and everything."

"What music?"

"Some song you made up." She snickered.

"I _sang_?"

"You sang. For being drunk off cold meds, and super congested, you sure didn't sound too awful." Penelope grinned. "And you kept bumping into the table...we're gonna have to pay for the lamp you broke."

"Then what?" He asked, coughing again.

"Then you stopped, looked at me and asked how comfortable my bed is. I told you it's the same as yours, at which point you started crying because you thought I was lying to you."

"Oh my God no." He groaned.

"It was quite an interesting night. I'm pretty sure you overdosed, but hey, you slept for a solid thirteen hours."

"Sorry for kicking you out of your bed." He mumbled, sitting up and moving his position so that he was lying the right way.

"Don't worry about it, sugar. How do you feel?"

"Did I get hit by a bus, too? Because it feels like it."

"It's the flu, babe. You're going to feel like that for a while."

He groaned. "K-kill m- _heh...EHh'Xxtchuh! EHh'Xxtchuh! *Snff*"_

"Kill you? No can do, I'm strictly anti-murder."

"Please don't tell anyone I _cried_."

"Don't worry, sugar. I wouldn't dream of it."

 _ **Review please :) Let me know if there's anything you want to see happen next**_


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey." Garcia said softly, setting down the takeout bags on the table. Morgan was propped up against the pillows, his head resting back against the headboard with a cool washcloth on his forehead.

"Hey." He whispered, his voice weak and raspy. The fever was taking its toll on his body, and he had virtually no energy to do anything.

"I'm sorry you're still so sick." She sighed, grabbing the thermometer from the table and walking over to him. "I hope your fever is going down, or else we're going to have to take you to the ER." He groaned, clenching his jaw. His entire body was aching painfully, and little move made him miserable.

"Is it almost time for medicine?" He asked, blinking slowly.

"Not yet, you still have about two hours, angel. What's bothering you?"

"Everything." He croaked.

"Body aches?" She asked stroking his cheek.

"Yes."

"Bad?"

"That's an understatement." He mumbled, nuzzling into her hand.

She sighed, sticking the thermometer in his mouth. After a few moments, it beeped. "One oh two point three. I'm calling Hotch, we'll get you to the hospital."

"I don't want to go to the hospital." He moaned. "Not again."

"Okay...I'll make you a deal. If your fever doesn't go above one hundred and three degrees, we won't go tonight. If you still have one tomorrow, we're going in."

She was getting worried now. His fever was being stubborn, it wouldn't go down below one hundred and one point nine, but never went above one hundred and two point five.

Morgan nodded tiredly, stealing a glance at her before closing his eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this tired. He didn't want to sleep, though, because every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the room spinning, which was not a feeling he liked.

"Do you want to watch a movie? It'll take your mind off feeling so crappy."

"Sounds fine." He mumbled, staring at her through half-closed eyelids.

"What do you want to watch?"

He shrugged. "I really don't care...something that doesn't require too much concentration...tired...head h'rts."

She smirked. "Okay...so 'Little Einsteins'?"

"No...I don't want t'watch a documentary about Reid." He mumbled, closing his eyes.

She laughed. "Noted."

There was a knock on the door, and she patted his leg before getting up and opening it.

"How is he?" Hotch asked, stepping inside. Prentiss followed him in, and shut the door behind her.

"He still doesn't feel well...he still has a fever, but he's really just exhausted at this point. He says his body is aching."

"How high is the fever?"

"One hundred and two point five."

"He's had a fever for nearly two days now." Prentiss said, glancing worriedly at her partner. "Do we need to take him back to the hospital?"

"I told him he wouldn't have to go tonight unless his fever went above one hundred and three. If he still has one tomorrow, he needs to see a doctor." Garcia sighed. Morgan looked way out of it, and was half slumped over on his side, nearly asleep.

Later that night, he was lying in bed, clutching his aching head.

"Baby girl, kill the lights...close the curtains, _something_." He begged.

"Headache?"

"Nnnngh." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain was ripping through his skull, making him nauseas.

"Do you have a migraine?" She asked softly; he just groaned.

Penelope shut off the lights, and closed the curtains, immersing the room in total darkness.

Morgan rolled on his side. The complete darkness had helped his headache somewhat, but his head was still killing him.

"Do we have any-"

"Migraine pills? I think so, I just can't see anything. I'm going to need to turn the lights on for a few minutes, hide your face." He pulled the blankets over his head, shivering lightly. After a few minutes, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, lover. Take your pills and you can go to sleep."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, my love." She said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"No, really." He said, his voice full of sincerity.

Morgan needed to tell her how he felt about her. He'd been meaning to talk to her for months now, but every time he was about to, something stopped him, and he was unable to get the words out.

"Derek, what's bothering you?"

"It's stupid." He mumbled tiredly.

"If it's bothering you, it's not stupid."

"I'm just tired...fever's getting to me."

"Get some sleep, hopefully you'll be feeling better when you wake up."

She was just praying that his fever would go down some by morning, and that he didn't wake up in the middle of the night again. As entertaining as it was, he needed rest.

It was nearing eleven AM the next morning, and he was still sleeping. Penelope chewed the inside of her cheek as she contemplated whether or not to wake him up. He needed to eat and take medicine, but this was the best sleep he'd gotten in the past few days.

She sighed, and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking lightly. "Wake up, you beautiful behavioral analyst."

After a few more minutes of her shaking him, he groaned and rolled on his back. "Morning."

"How do you feel?" She asked softly, putting a hand on his forehead, neck and chest. "Your fever is going down, I think."

He coughed once to clear his throat, which sent him into a congested sounding coughing fit. "Nnnngh." He groaned, rubbing his temples. "The migraine is gone...but my head still hurts."

"Do you feel any better?"

"Yeah...I guess. What time is it?"

"Ten fifty." She said and stuck the thermometer in his mouth. She breathed a sigh of relief when she checked the numbers. "One hundred and one. It's finally going down."

"So no hospital?"

"We'll check back in an hour to make sure it's going down still. If not, we're going to have to take you...I have a question."

"Go for it."

"What was bothering you last night?"

"...Nothing."

"Come on, sugar. I've known you for years, and you think that lame excuse is really going to convince me? Mnh-mnh. Fess up, you have to tell me now."

He groaned. "Do we have to get into this now?"

"Derek..." She frowned. "What's so bad that you can't tell me?"

"I...I...I'm really tired." He choked out.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why are you being weird? You're starting to freak me out."

He groaned. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not when you're being all...not yourself. Come on, just tell me. I'm sure it's not that bad."

"I'm in love with you." He blurted out.

"You're...you...I...what? But...but you're Derek Morgan."

He chuckled, which sent him into a coughing fit. "And you're Penelope Garcia. I'm really glad we've had this talk and settled our identities."

"No...I mean...how can you love me?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"Because you are everything to me." He said softly, pushing himself into a sitting position. She averted her eyes, playing with her fingers. "Oh."

She didn't know what else to say.

"Baby, talk to me." He rasped, clearing his throat with a wince.

"I love you, too...I have for years, but it just...it doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"People that look like you don't like people that look like me. You're breaking the rules of society."

He held back a laugh to keep from coughing again. "Do I look like I care about the 'rules of society'? No. I love you, you silly girl."

"I love you too." She repeated, giddiness bubbling in her chest as she fought the urge to giggle.

"I'd kiss you right now, but I'm sick, and trust me, you don't want this." He mumbled tiredly.

"Derek Morgan." She said firmly. "I've been taking care of you for three days now, so chances are, I've already been exposed. You bet your ass you'd better kiss me."

He grinned widely, and then cupped her cheek before pressing his lips to hers.

 _ **Holy crap, guys. This chapter was so difficult to write...anyways, please review and let me know what you think. I'm going to guess this only has about 1-2 chapters left.**_

 _ **OH MY GOSH, THE NUMBER OF REVIEWS ARE IN THE DOUBLE DIGITS, I'M SO EXCITED, YOU HAVE NO IDEA.**_


End file.
